Shattered Innocence
by Sable Faith
Summary: The moment Sirius Black met Cayden Hillander, his innocence shattered. Now, he faces a man who is darker than he could ever imagine, his friend's warnings, and the perils of his decisions. Purity is a thing of the past. SBOC SLASH AU.
1. Prologue: And so, it began

Shattered Innocence  
  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, but I DO own Cayden. Hear that? Hiss  
  
A/N: This story has, at points vivid, male on male action, as well as drug usage, abuse, and bloodshed. If you don't like it, do I really need to hear about it? Hit 'back' right now and save me the headache. I don't have any more Advil.  
  
Prologue: And so, it began.  
  
_A flash of bare skin, bronzed in the flickering candlelight. More boundless, naked flesh, this time in the shape of a long, lean back, a perfect row of a spine arching down the middle of the too-perfect body. A set of hands, short fingernails gripping onto broad shoulders, scraping and raising long, red welts in their wake. A low moan, a rustle of sheets, a muffled cry, the soft, almost undistinguishable murmur of a kiss. It was a precious moment, captured in a sleeping memory._  
  
A figure writhed in a cold bed, alone beneath the crimson sheets. A pool of sable hair spilled out across his pillow, and his fingers caught at the bedding, clenching into white-knuckled fists.  
  
_A whispered plea, lips grazing a pleasantly peach-fuzzed earlobe, and the answer to a prayer. Overwhelming, so intense that it swallowed coherent thought or speech, leaving the choking sound of a moan torn from one's lips. Intertwined bodies rolling over satin, blood-red sheets, skin like living marble melding into a statuesque bronze, two forms that neither began nor ended, jut existed as one, at least for that moment… Oh, another cry, a small smirk, another breathless kiss._  
  
His eyebrows drew together, creasing his forehead. He tossed his head, mane of dark hair whipping across his face to rest on the other side of the pillow. It was so hot under the blankets…  
  
_"Please…"_  
  
His thin, pouting lips parted and a low groan spewed out into the quiet night.  
  
_"Please!" He was begging now, needing to indulge himself in the taste, the feel, the ecstasy of that flawless being. He needed it.  
  
"I'm yours," came the whispered response, arising a delicious shiver down his spine._  
  
Sirius sat bolt-upright in bed, his entire body pulsing with every heartbeat, running through him like shockwaves. Slowly, he released the sheets, watching as the color returned to his fingers. The sheets, creased from his grip, were the same from his dream. Too familiar for comfort.  
  
"Why the hell am I still dreaming about that?" He murmured to himself, smoothing back his hair. It unsettled him, when he even thought about it, and recently, the memories haunted him while he slept, a constant reminder.  
  
_"I'm yours."_  
  
That was a particular memory that had been stalking him recently. Just those two words, that had been said thoughtlessly in a moment where thought means nothing at all, and yet they were so true. Even now, five long, lonely years later, they remained true, and they always would. He would always be His, in one way or another.  
  
Oh, that was such a cruel truth.  
  
Sirius, who had slipped into that state of mind where you see nothing but your own thoughts, shook his head and stared down at his hands, fingertips absently stroking the silk sheets. Swallowing, he pulled his hands away as if the bed had burned him and got to his feet, smoothing back his hair and acting, to an invisible audience, as cool and collected as he possibly could. It was a failed act; the stern set of his jaw and the way his eyes fluttered from one thing to the next gave him away to no one in particular.  
  
Going to his bathroom, he flipped on the light switch, finding it instinctively, and stood in front of his mirror, staring blankly back at himself.  
  
He was no longer the 17-year-old boy that had first looked into that mirror, with another face grinning quietly over his shoulder. Sirius closed his eyes softly, a fan of black lashes brushing his prominent, pale cheekbones as he shivered. He remembered too much here, especially after one of those dreams, the touch of soft, subtle hands on his arms as he looked into the mirror all those years ago…  
  
Oh, those hands.  
  
He hardened at the thought of them, or maybe the thought of what they had done.  
  
_'Not good thoughts,'_ he told himself, opening his eyes and meeting his reflection again, guilty with scandalous memories. Sirius rubbed his face, letting out a loud sigh, and turned to the shower, pausing with a hand on the door.  
  
They had made love there too.  
  
_'So no cold shower,'_ he decided, turning away and walking out of the bathroom, out of the bedroom, down the hallway, down the stairs. At the front door, he reached for his leather jacket and paused, fingers outstretched. Changing his mind, he grabbed a black, thigh-length coat instead, his gaze resting on his first choice as he slipped it on and shoved his feet into a pair of sneakers.  
  
Throwing open the front door, he emerged into the street, blue-black sky shadowed with clouds. The moon was no where to be seen, and he was thankful for that. He didn't want the light, nor did he want it to get him thinking on Remus.  
  
Great, now he was thinking about Remus.  
  
One of the many people who had tried to warn him, who had threatened him to get the hell out of his situation. Trustworthy, intelligent, quiet Moony. He had been right, as had Lily and James and Dumbledore. Hell, even that little twit Peter had known better. Everyone had seen it, except Sirius, of course. He had given everything for one damned man, and everything had been taken. They had all seen it coming, they had all warned him, and they had all turned away in the end, when it came.  
  
Sirius hadn't noticed that he'd stopped walking and sank to the ground in the middle of the sidewalk.  
  
It started five years ago.  
  
There was a time when the color crimson was blissfully insignificant to Sirius Black; another ordinary color. But that was before he had seen it reflected in the malevolent gaze of a sinister lover, spilling from a dead man's throat, draped across inviting beds as the most sensual sheets.  
  
That was before he met Cayden.  
  
Just then, Sirius was running his hands over his crimson Gryffindor cloak absently, feet propped up on a table at the Hog's Head. James was walking carefully over to them, biting his lip in concentration, bespectacled eyes focused firmly on the four cups of butterbeer balanced precariously in his hands. That was one of the moments when the color of blood was only a color.  
  
James let out a long breath as he sat the drinks down before he flopped into his chair and took hold of his own mug, raising it in the air. "To a new year of mischief," he declared, beaming over the rim of his cup.  
  
"To mischief!" Remus, Sirius, and Peter echoed, all wearing identical grins. The glass mugs met in a soft chink, golden butterbeer sloshing down the boys' hands.  
  
"Ah," Sirius sighed, setting down his cup and wiping away a film of foam from his upper lip. "Nothing like butterbeer on New Year's," he commented, letting his feet slide back to the floor. "But what we really need is the most fantastic prank to kick off our last year at Hogwarts," he finished, and his friends echoed their approval. Sirius smiled, face glowing in the light streaming through the window. Outside, everything was cloaked in gossamer snow, shining brilliantly in the noon light.  
  
"Yes, but what to do," James murmured, stroking some feeble chin hair he'd been trying to grow out.  
  
"We could surprise everyone by NOT pulling a prank, for once," Peter piped in his small voice.  
  
Silence.  
  
"Or not," he added quietly to himself, eyes down as the others jumped into ideas, everyone talking at once.  
  
As they bickered, picking out finer details of various plans and piecing them together, another table was musing as well. Across the room, two men shared a small corner table, thrown into shadow by the bar.  
  
One of them, thinly built and on the smaller side, was nursing a mug of butterbeer, regarding his companion through narrowed eyes. "Quite the sophisticate today, aren't we, Cayden?" He asked, tone dry as he kept his spiteful gaze on the man seated across from him. Cayden turned his attention back to his acquaintance with a cocked eyebrow and swirled his dark wine in his goblet.  
  
"I do try," he answered smugly, taking a small sip, dark eyes fixed on his. He knew this little man's game, always asking questions, always prodding, always trying to find something that would weaken his ties with their master.  
  
"Anything new on your agenda? Any_one_?" Marcus probed, gulping his drink and fixing a sly look on his much taller companion.  
  
Cayden returned his inquiry with a sardonic glare. "Actually, I've been rather bored of late," he sighed, resting his wine down and shifting in his seat. The raucous chaos of the pub grated on his sensitive nerves, and he held his eyes shut lightly for a few moments before his sable eyes flickered open again. "Things have been… quiet," he said, choosing his words carefully.  
  
"I have noticed," Marcus replied dryly, not bothering to hide his resentment as Cayden did. "I'm sure someone usually so busy has been just dying for something interesting with everything so mundane recently," he pressed, looking pathetically over-eager.  
  
"Marcus," Cayden sighed, probing his wine gently with a long forefinger, "one would think that, in the years you have so avidly pressed for a confession of ill-faith towards our master from me and received none, you would put an end to your interrogations, and yet, you still try. Why is that?" He asked, his words ending in a silent sip of wine.  
  
Marcus scowled deeply, his square face folding into the creases of a frown. "For all your fancy talk, Cayden, you're not much more than a glorified slut," he hissed, and a soft tremor rippled across the tall man's skin at the insult, the candlelight bowing and darkening considerably, almost giving off a black light.  
  
"If I were you, Marcus," Cayden said quietly, words trembling with barely-leashed anger, "I would think more carefully before speaking." His black eyes glittered in the flickering light, the crowds fading into a soft mumble in the background. "I have held my patience with you for quite some time, and I don't believe you'd find me as _sophisticated _when I'm angry. Do I make myself clear, Marcus?" He asked, voice leveling out into a cold, none-too-subtle, threatening tone.  
  
Marcus, who had paled the moment Cayden began twisting things with his passionate, temper-driven magic, swallowed and nodded, taking a long swig of his butterbeer.  
  
Cayden nodded, and the thundering noise returned at full volume, the candle righting itself and once again letting off a warm glow. He settled back into his chair, cupping the hull of his wine glass and swirling it's dark contents lazily.  
  
Letting out a relieved sigh, Marcus fumbled with some papers and pushed them across the table, shifting in his seat. As they settled down to the quiet discussion of work, the Marauders ushered Sirius away from the table.  
  
"I'm not paying for these!" He protested as his seat was pulled out from underneath him and three pairs of hands shooed him away as if he were an unwanted dog. _'Nice figure of speech,'_ he thought to himself with a twinkling grin, weaving between tables and customers milling about to the bar, tapping the counter to get the bartender's attention.  
  
"Yes, young man?" The small, wrinkled man asked, pushing his over-large spectacles up the bridge of his nose. Sirius briefly thought that he looked nothing like the stereotypical bartender; hairy, tall, boisterous.  
  
"Four butterbeers," he said, giving him a small smile as he leaned an elbow on the bar counter, glancing around noncommittally, a few strands of long, raven hair falling into his face that he didn't care to push away.  
  
Cayden looked up from the documents for a moment.  
  
That one moment.  
  
If he had decided to glance up just a minute later, he would have found some other patron placing an order, been immediately uninterested, and return to his careful scouring of the endless words.  
  
But fate had taken a cruel turn in that tick of a clock, and Cayden Hillander, one of the most dangerous, intriguing, and darkly intelligent men alive, flicked his gaze upwards for a single heartbeat, and laid those shimmering, obsidian eyes, flecked with crimson like tear drops of blood, upon the most stunning creature he'd ever seen.  
  
That one moment, and Sirius Black's unfortunate fate was sealed. His innocence shattered in that once glance, and in the years to come, he would wonder why he had not noticed it, his morals and his heart slowly cracking like glass. It had happened in that first moment, the first strike of Cayden's will against Sirius's.  
  
Oh, yes, fate was cruel indeed.  
  
Marcus looked up as well, stopping mid-sentence as he noticed his audience was gone. He turned in his seat, following Cayden's dark gaze to the source of his small, almost undetectable grin. But you could see it in those fathomless, blood stained eyes, shining with the candlelight, his interest. Something had caught his attention, and by the looks of it, something very decadent indeed.  
  
The second Marcus saw the young man, tall, muscular, undeniably handsome, with black gossamer hair that caught the honey light and sent it gleaming, he made a snort of disgust.  
  
"I think it's absolutely repulsive," he commented crisply, folding his arms. "How can two men do that?" He asked incredulously, shuddering at the thought.  
  
"It's quite fun," Cayden answered with a bright-eyed smirk, and Marcus choked on his own breath, coughing loudly. Cayden laughed in response, getting to his feet, his gaze never leaving Sirius. He was intrigued, he had finally found something to brighten up the damper that had been set upon his life. He slid up beside Sirius, resting his elbows on the counter and leaning over casually, nodding to the bartend.  
  
"Another wine, sir?" He asked, putting down four foaming mugs of butterbeer before the dark-haired object of his attention. Now, having him simply walk away certainly wouldn't do. With a flicker of a grin, Cayden brushed his mind over the mugs, causing a deep, unnoticeable fissure running through the handle of one of them.  
  
_'That should do nicely,'_ he thought to himself, accepting a fresh goblet and turning away at the same moment as the nameless beauty of a man, smiling broadly as he heard the loud shattering of glass, the wave of butterbeer splashing on the floor, all of it covered by a loud curse in a deep, husky voice.  
  
Cayden turned, setting down his goblet on the nearest table, and bent down beside him gracefully, wiping away the mess with a wave of his hand.  
  
He turned his eyes up, finding a cold gray gaze, nearly white, and swirled like a blizzard, dashed with dark, smoke-colored motes, meeting his. The corners of his mouth turned up in a broad smile as he rocked back onto his heels, never breaking their linked gazes. A thousand thoughts, a thousand wicked ideas, flew across his mind as those wintry eyes trembled, meeting his unblinkingly. Oh, this was to be very, very interesting.  
  
Sirius, on the other hand, was doubtlessly captivated by such a smoldering, dark set of eyes. They were set into a chiseled, breathtakingly handsome face, bronzed like a Greek statue, framed by long, looping curls a few shades lighter than his own; the darkest of chocolates. Sirius had only ever had eyes for women, but when he looked at that man, he decided that he could see now why all the gay men had the right to be so. They truly did have some unbelievably handsome figures to gape over.  
  
"Cayden Hillander," he said, offering him a tanned, long-fingered hand.  
  
Sirius hesitated a moment, blinking away his stunned hypnotism.  
  
"Sirius Black," he answered softly, finding all his breath stolen away.  
  
And so, it began.

* * *

Alright, first chapter (or Prologue, I guess) of my first slash story, ever, done! Please, I really want to know if I'm doing alright at this, since it's unexplored territory and all. -Sable. 


	2. Chapter One: Behind a Cigarette

**Chapter Two: Behind a Cigarette**  
  
_"Back and forth through my mind behind a cigarette," -The White Stripes  
_  
Sirius laid down on the pavement, ignoring a stone that pressed into the small of his back. His head throbbed, pulsing pain through his mind.  
  
_'Why did I do it?'_ He asked himself, jaw clenching.  
  
He often wondered that, waking up in Cayden's bed, beneath Cayden's sheets, in Cayden's home. He wondered why he was still living there, in that house filled with memories and hurts, why it had been he Cayden had chosen, why he hadn't noticed the corruption around him, the very walls of his life crumbling, until he stood bare in the open, cold and alone. He wondered far too much, for he had far too many questions unanswered. Cayden had ripped loose the threads that held the pieces of his life together, leaving him with the shreds of it all. Sirius still clutched them to himself, dear as the most precious jewel, if only because they held the echo of Cayden.  
  
It was pathetic.  
  
His lip twitched a bit in self-revulsion. He had been so blind as a child, and even as a man, he was blind when it came to Cayden. As much as he despised and hated him, wished to see him die for the things he had done to him and others, Sirius knew that, if Cayden were to appear standing above him at that moment and asked to have him right there in the street, Sirius would moan like a whore and love every second of it.  
  
He shuddered in his skin and shifted, grinding himself into the stone, liking the pain. Cayden used to tease him with it, inching pain upon him before giving him pleasure in a foot.  
  
He had been beautiful.  
  
Sirius groaned, his pants tight with the thought of his old lover._ 'Why?'_ Sirius whined in his mind. _'Why do you still hold me captive? Have you not done enough?'  
_  
_"I have just begun, my innocent little dove."_  
  
Sirius's eyes sprung open at the memory, shuddering with cold arousal. _'Oh, Cayden… Innocent? No, not innocent anymore. You made sure of that.'  
_  
Once, Cayden had enslaved him, caged him in with the steel of seduction and intrigue.  
  
He had taken the key to that enslavement to his grave.

* * *

Without a word, Cayden rose, earning an alarmed look from Marcus, and simply walked out of the Hog's Head. Well, not simply, for Cayden Hillander was not capable of doing things simply. He walked with an easy, nonchalant grace, hips swinging slightly, head cocked to one side. He slid a hand into one pocket and shook his curls back from his face.  
  
Behind him, Sirius watched every movement, eyes wide with transfixion. It was amazing, how subtly an obsession could come on.  
  
Outside, a dark figure against the purity of the snow, Cayden found himself above counting the seconds until that little child, Sirius, came bursting out of the pub in pursuit of him. When he did, though, Cayden couldn't help but grin smugly, the corners up his lips turning up in a complacent smirk. He could hear Sirius's breath, coming in heavy gasps, and he could hear his footsteps, and even they were anxious, tearing through the snow.  
  
Cayden wasn't surprised when a hand reached out and took hold of his shoulder, turning him around. He met the dappled gaze of Sirius Black, still wearing that sly smile. "Something I can help you with, kid?" He asked, inwardly admiring the way his glossy, ebony hair fell with a kind of casual elegance into his face, cascading across one smoky eye, contrasting darkly against a finely boned, pale cheek, and ending at the corner of faded rose lips.  
  
Oh, this was going to be fun.  
  
"You-" Sirius started, breathless as he met Cayden's eye's, falling into that enthrallment that seemed to come along with this man's presence. Cayden simply watched, amused, as Sirius tried to think of a reason for tearing out of a pub after a complete stranger.  
  
"Yes?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow. He was enjoying this, watching a young man stutter over his own thoughts.  
  
"It's just that… I wanted to thank you," he stammered, swallowing and sweeping back his hair unconsciously, shifting his weight back to one leg, and trying to appear collected, even though the stern set of his jaw, the awkward folding of his arms gave him away.  
  
"Thank me?" He asked, his smirk widening. "For what, per say?" Cayden continued, reveling in his discomfort.  
  
"For helping me with the glass," he said, leaning back a little, now just humorously forcing the relaxed act. Cayden replied with a shrug of his shoulders, brushing his words aside.  
  
"Be more careful, Sirius, was it?" He asked, even though he remembered his name perfectly well. He enjoyed playing with his food before devouring it. Marcus called him cruel for it, amongst the **_many _**other things he called him.  
  
"I will, thanks, I wanted to ask if you-"  
  
"Look, kid," Cayden interrupted, extracting a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and pulling one out, along with a silver lighter. His eyes fixed on the flame as he took a drag, the cigarette lighting and crackling faintly in the silence between them. "You're cute," he said, holding the cigarette between his middle and fore fingers, gesturing with his hand absently, sending a thin tendril of smoke curling through the air. A cloud of warm breath met the cold as he spoke again, his cigarette inching towards his mouth. "But you're a little young for me," he finished, taking another drag.  
  
Sirius's eye's widened, mouth hanging open slightly. Cayden watched, another smirk pulling at his lips behind the cigarette.  
  
"I wasn't talking about that," Sirius defended himself, swallowing. He'd only ever had eyes for women, being interested in this man was… It was absurd.  
  
_'But there was that moment in there,'_ his traitorous mind reminded, thinking back to the scene in the Hog's Head. Alright, so he had seen how _other_ men could be attracted to him, _gay_ men, but not he, Sirius Black; troublemaker, prankster, **ladies**' man. Not man's man. He silenced those thoughts with a small shake of his head, refusing to listen to that prodding little voice in his head.  
  
"Of course you were," Cayden insisted nonetheless, exhaling a fog of smoke that trailed away from them slowly in the frigid air. "You just don't know it," he said, grinning as he took another pull of his cigarette.  
  
"I am not gay," Sirius retorted, ashen eyes narrowing as another lock of sable hair slid into his scowling face.  
  
"Neither am I," Cayden replied, humor ringing in his tone.  
  
_'He's mocking me!'_ Sirius thought, flaring with anger.  
  
Cayden watched it all, dark eyes glittering smugly behind wisps of cigarette smoke. It was an amusing scene, a teenage boy throwing a fit because he'd been caught with his hand in the Homo jar, silently observed by an assassin, a thief, a master of espionage, who, in that moment, was just a seducer. How entertaining.  
  
"Well, good luck, kid. Acceptance is always the most difficult thing to handle," he said, slipping his free hand into a pocket and turning on a booted heel, crunching away through the snow. Sirius, for some reason even he didn't know, walked beside him, brows drawn together in a thoughtful frown.  
  
"I'm not gay," he repeated, as if that settled the matter.  
  
"Sure, kid," Cayden replied with a nonchalant humor grinning on his features, drawing another breath from the cigarette.  
  
This guy ticked him off, Sirius decided, and yet, he was following him away from the Hog's Head, where his friends were still waiting for him, he had a tab to cover, and it was warm. Where were they going, anyway? And why hadn't he thought to grab his coat on the way out? Since he'd seen Cayden, all of ten minutes earlier, he hadn't been doing much rational thinking.  
  
"But you are?" Sirius asked, his mind wondering over Cayden, drawing a blank. He knew nothing about this man, other than he seemed to be suave, handsome, and coming off as slightly flirtatious in a homosexual way. Not very specific, and probably not very accurate. Once again, Sirius tried to remember what it was that made him dash out of the pub like a bomb was at his heels in pursuit of this man, and now was following him through the snow-laden streets of Hogsmeade, trying to think of a logical explanation for why he was doing just that. This day had turned awfully confusing for Sirius since he'd dropped that mug of butterbeer.  
  
"I'm what? Gay?" Cayden asked, walking them out of the little rows of shops, winding his way past the Shrieking Shack, which Sirius gazed at absently, his mind an incomprehensible cacophony of thoughts.  
  
"Yeah," he replied half-heartedly.  
  
"I'm not anything, kid, I do whatever and whomever I want to," he said, flicking his stub of a cigarette off into the snow with a barely audible sizzle as it went out.  
  
Sirius's eyebrows shot up at that comment, but he deducted that, considering the flatness in Cayden's voice, it was not a subject to be pursued. Without anything more to say, Sirius felt even more out of place, if that was possible, tagging around with this man like a lost puppy. Luckily, Cayden fished him out of the awkwardness that hung between them just then.  
  
"You're a student?" He asked noncommittally, gaze flickering over to him for a brief moment before fixing on the snowy path winding down the cliffside.  
  
"Uh- yeah," Sirius said, caught slightly off-guard by the sudden change of topic. "Seventh year," he added, sounding a bit pathetic, even to his own ears. "Wha-what about you?"  
  
Cayden smirked at his discomfort. "Twenty-six," he said nonchalantly, fingers itching for another cigarette. He stopped, feet mere inches from the edge of the precipice, falling away from the white ground with the dramatic effect of looking out upon the world, snowy hills in the distance seeming like a separate land. He took out his pack again, pulling out a cigarette and fitting it delicately between his lips and flicking open his lighter, cupping a hand around the small, wavering flame. His chocolate gaze found Sirius before he lit it, though, and grinned a bit, lowering the lighter. "Want one?" He asked, cigarette wavering between his lips.  
  
Sirius was otherwise preoccupied, eyes resting on his mouth as he spoke, perfectly shaped, pouting lips moving gracefully, the cigarette fluctuating in his mouth. He swallowed and nodded, taking the cig he already held out for him and put it into his mouth with trembling hands, cursing the cold under his breath as a cover-up. Smoking was nothing new to Sirius Black, it pissed the hell out of his mother, so he had taken to doing it around her as often as possible, but Cayden's mere presence…  
  
He shook the thoughts away and went to accept the lighter, watching as Cayden took a pull, lighting his cigarette. He pocketed the lighter though, grinning as he beckoned Sirius with a half-hearted hand gesture. When Sirius only answered him with a cocked eyebrow and a dubious look, cigarette still poised between his thin, pale lips, Cayden sighed.  
  
"I don't bite… often," he added with a smirk. "I'm low on fluid," he explained; lying, of course. He just wanted to make him squirm.  
  
Sirius moved forward hesitantly, touching the end of his cigarette to Cayden's, their eyes meeting, only six inches apart, as both took drags. Sirius trembled, loosing shape of time and the world around him as he focused on the captivating man before him. Sirius broke away coughing slightly, having inhaled too long, caught up in the other man's warm russet eyes. Cayden, simpering, let out an elegant whorl of smoke, eyes dancing with humor.  
  
"Not used to smoking?" He asked, still grinning. He got a narrow-eyed glare in return.  
  
"I'm fine," he muttered darkly, taking another pull and exhaling a cloud of smoke, giving Cayden a challenging look.  
  
Cayden put his hands up in a defensive shrug, a tendril of smoke trailing up from the hand that held his cigarette. A fairly comfortable silence passed between the pair as they stood, shoulders almost touching, gazing out across the ravine beneath them, wisps of smoke traveling lazily above them.  
  
The cigarette calmed Sirius, clearing his thoughts. It was refreshing, to finally be able to think straight when his mind had been a muddle of contemplation for the past few minutes. The back of his head pounded dully with every heartbeat, and even that began to numb as he drew in more smoke. He was miraculously able to take his mind off the mysterious, foreboding figure standing beside him.  
  
Cayden, on the other hand, had quite the opposite ideas running through his head, one corner of his mouth hinting a thoughtful smirk. He had just thought of a few, rather amusing ways to work his young acquaintance into various pleasing situations when he felt a presence weighing on his mind, and it took him less than a moment's thought to recognize who it was.  
  
_'Come to me,'_ it beckoned, the voice soft and rhythmic, purring to him with the tint of seduction. He cocked an eyebrow at his master's call, the one man who could surprise him, although after twelve years in his service, it did not happen as often. Intrigued as to what he could want this time; an interesting mission, perhaps, or, Cayden perked at the thought, finally everything he had teased at for years. Despite his master's games, Cayden was a sharp man, and knew that his advances were just taunts, though it always put him out slightly. He would have had the utmost pleasure in claiming his master as his own, weakening the man's defenses, making him cry his name…  
  
_'What interesting thoughts,'_ his master's voice mused, and Cayden smirked, pushing him out of his mind.  
  
"Well," he began, turning to face Sirius, tossing his cigarette off the cliff, "I'm afraid I must be off," he said. "Perhaps you and I will meet again," he said with a coy wink, giving him a nod before turning on his heel, flashing him a grin, and stepping backwards off the cliff in a swish of his coat, the fabric snapping in the wind.  
  
Sirius swore and tossed his cigarette aside, sliding to his knees and looking frantically over the side of the ravine, his raven hair slipping into his face. His gray eyes searched the gorge anxiously, but the white-bellied gulf was filled with only virgin snow, unblemished by a mangled body or any tracks. Cayden had just simply disappeared.  
  
With a shaky sigh, Sirius rocked back onto his heels, blinking away confusion. There hadn't been the distinguishing 'crack' of apparation, and Cayden obviously wasn't lying dead anywhere at the bottom of the canyon so… Where _**was**_ he?  
  
Sirius got to his feet and started back up the trail, forehead creased in thought. _'He just jumped off a cliff!'_ Sirius thought to himself incredulously before James, Remus, and Peter rushed up to him, enveloping him in a flurry of excited explanations and delicacies from Zonko's and Honeydukes shoved in his face for examination.  
  
He had not seen the last of Cayden Hillander.

* * *

And there ends the second chapter… To my ONE reviewer (yes, pathetic indeed, I know), thanks for liking it! But her review is lonely HINT HINT, so R 'n' R people!  
  
-Sable 


	3. Chapter Two: Set Up

**Chapter Two: Set Up**  
  
_"I was set up from the get up, and I drove the wrong way home." -Butch Walker_  
  
A week later, Sirius sat in class, tapping his quill absently, his knee bobbing as he stared vacantly out the window. He still thought about Cayden periodically and wondered about what his last words to him had been.  
  
_"Perhaps you and I will meet again."_  
  
After spending even a short amount of time with the mysterious man, Sirius knew that Cayden had not mentioned it as casually as he thought. Something was going on with him, that much Sirius knew, and, as a Marauder, it was his duty to find out. He set his lips into a thin line, eyebrows furrowed. What could he do, though? He couldn't exactly go traipsing around the world in search of him, he had school, and somehow he doubted someone as… indefinable as Cayden could live in Hogsmeade. He had a slim hope of meeting up with him again, but Sirius was saved from a disappointed pout by Professor McGonagall.  
  
"Mr. Black, if you find yourself unable to concentrate in my class, perhaps you will focus better in a detention this evening?" She challenged with pursed lips, an eyebrow arching above the rim of her glasses.  
  
Sirius threw her a suave grin, the one that was infamous for making women melt; the one he couldn't seem to muster around Cayden. "I'm afraid Professor Flitwick and I are already meeting tonight. Another time, perhaps?" He asked, grinning slightly.  
  
A muscle in McGonagall's cheek twitched, and she turned back to the board briskly, James chortling behind him. Sirius threw a smug look at his friend before returning to gazing off into space, his thoughts somewhere by a snowy cliffside in Hogsmeade… The sound of the bell startled him back to reality, and he quickly gathered his things into his bag, shouldering it and following James out of the classroom amongst a swarm of students.  
  
"Did you see McGonagall's face?" James asked, hazel eyes shining with humor behind his spectacles.  
  
Sirius grinned and winked at a passing group of girls, brushing some hair out of his face, and they were reduced to excited whispers and giggles as they hurried away, casting silly glances over their shoulders at him. James let out a snort of disapproval. "You're such a damned flirt," he scoffed, and Sirius shrugged it off, heading to the stairs.  
  
"And you've been really quiet since Hogsmeade," he threw in, and Sirius met his friend's suspicious, cocked-eyebrow look with a gulp, his face rigid.  
  
"So?" He shot back, one hand slipping up the railing as they ascended a broad marble staircase.  
  
"So?" James repeated incredulously, looking at his friend, astonished. "So, Sirius Orion Black is NEVER quiet!"  
  
"There's a first time for everything," his friend retorted gloomily, muttering the password to the Fat Lady, who narrowed her eyes and 'tsk-ed' about manners. The pair entered the common room, a fire crackling in the hearth, and Sirius made immediately for the stairs, groaning inwardly as Remus came bounding over to him. He really didn't want to deal with anyone just then, and naturally, everyone was seeking him out.  
  
"Sirius, Dumbledore wants you," he said, tawny eyes glittering in the firelight. Sirius sighed and turned on his heel, slipping his bag off and holding it out for James, who just stared at it.  
  
"Do I have 'pack animal' written on my face?" James asked bitterly, shoving the bag back towards Sirius, who gave him a level glare.  
  
"I can write it there. Take it, James, I'm in trouble, again," he added dryly, and James grabbed it from him with a sneer, mumbling to himself darkly as he trudged up the stairs, Remus in tow, brows furrowed.  
  
"You two get in a row or something…?"

* * *

Sirius slouched his shoulders gloomily as he trudged through the corridors, scuffing his sneakers on the marble as he went. James really didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of his temper, he knew that, but over the past week he hadn't been able to control his thoughts, let alone his actions. Since meeting Cayden, he'd been disgruntled and easily set off on a temper tantrum. With a sigh, he stopped outside the Headmaster's gargoyle, vowing to apologize to the other Marauders when he returned.  
  
"Butterscotch Blimey," he muttered, the same password from his scolding the previous day, and the gargoyle jumped to life and stepped aside.  
  
Sirius nodded to the statue and stepped into the narrow stairwell, ascending the spiraling, brass-railed steps with a dreary weight to his stride. He wasn't looking forward to meeting with Dumbledore, it could only mean trouble, and he wasn't in the mood to receive a detention just then.  
  
Only he wasn't getting sentenced to scrubbing the halls, he found out as the heavy, intricately carved, oak door at the top of the stairs swung open, revealing the spacious office within.  
  
Sirius halted, limbs frozen, breath caught in his throat, and eyes wide. _'No…'_ He groaned mentally, _'…anything but this.'_  
  
Professor Dumbledore, with his considerable beard, kind, age-softened face, and twinkling periwinkle blue eyes behind gold-rimmed, half-moon spectacles, sat behind a huge cherry desk. His white bearded face was turned up to the man standing before him, bushy eyebrows drown together in interest.  
  
"…excellent opportunity," the man said, finishing a sentence that Sirius had been too stunned to hear, the voice leveling Sirius's mind functions like a wrecking ball. He stood there, swaying on his feet from shock, and Dumbledore noticed him in the man's silence, turning his attention to his student with a warm grin.  
  
"Ah, Mr. Black," he rasped in his low voice, weathered by years of use. "Mr. Hillander, this is the young man I told you of," he said, and Sirius wished he had James's invisibility cloak on him as the black-coated figure began to turn, dark mahogany curls bouncing slightly with the movement.  
  
Cayden Hillander stood before him.  
  
The desire to disappear only intensified beneath his dark gaze, eyes the color of midnight shimmering in his handsome face, a stray lock of chocolate hair trailing across one eye and cheek. Sirius sucked in a shaky breath, and Cayden smirked at the effect he was having on the child.  
  
"Cayden Hillander," Cayden said, extending a hand which Sirius shook hesitantly, still meeting his gaze, more than slightly dumbstruck.  
  
"Mr. Hillander is interested in investing in a Hogwarts Quidditch Team," Dumbledore explained, though his words were lost on Sirius. "I told him you're the finest Beater we have, and Captain of the Gryffindor House Team," he continued, and Cayden cocked an eyebrow at him.  
  
"Quite the player, eh?" Cayden asked through a small smirk, his voice gliding down Sirius's nerves, arising shivers down his spine.  
  
Sirius nodded meekly, taking the opportunity to fix his gaze on the floor.  
  
"Sirius, are you alright?" Dumbledore asked, eyebrows furrowed. "You're acting quite out of character," he commented, and Sirius met him with a barely managed smile.  
  
"I'm not feeling well, Professor," he said. It wasn't quite a lie, either, his head swam from the close proximity to Cayden, who emanated a magnetic warmth and spice-tinted, musky aroma that made Sirius want to step closer and…  
  
He shook off those thoughts, replacing them with the firm statement of 'I am not gay.'  
  
"Oh…" Dumbledore mused. "Do you feel up to giving Mr. Hillander a tour of the Quidditch pitch?" He asked, and Sirius felt his stomach drop.  
  
'NO!' His mind screamed, but Sirius felt himself nodding and flashing the Headmaster another smile. "Of course, Professor," he said, and could almost feel Cayden's grin burning against his skin.  
  
"Good, good," Dumbledore murmured, grinning softly at them both. "Mr. Hillander, if you wouldn't mind speaking with me afterwards…" He said, eyes fixed on Cayden.  
  
"Certainly, Albus," he said, slipping his arm in Sirius's. "Shall we?" He asked in a low voice, and Sirius, trembling, nodded and led him from the office. For some reason, he had a faint hope that Cayden would release his hold on him once they left the Headmaster's office, but Cayden kept their arms linked as they began to descend the steps. For Sirius, it was torture, the heat of his body, the intoxicating aroma that poured off him in waves, and the occasional brush of thigh or hip against his. He even forgot to tell himself that he wasn't gay; Cayden had melted away everything in his mind. For Cayden, it was pure enjoyment to see the young man beside him swallow, a bead of sweat form at his hairline, a deep gulp to slide through his throat, and the small shivers that danced across his skin every time Cayden decided to rub their legs softly. He laughed inside, and remained pleasantly silent out.  
  
They came to the high-ceilinged, marble corridor out by the gargoyle, which was deserted, seeing as it was past curfew (which didn't necessarily mean _everyone _was going to be in bed), and Sirius let out a shaky sigh as Cayden's arm, heat, and scent slipped away from him, flooding his senses with reality and the cold, normal world of the castle around him.  
  
But that couldn't be… No, a part of him _couldn't_ want him to take hold of him again…  
  
_…'I am NOT gay.'  
  
'Sure, kid.'_  
  
Sirius jumped at that. It was Cayden's voice, in his head, and a memory from standing in the streets of Hogsmeade. WHY was he starting to think that?  
  
_'Come on, Sirius. You're practically salivating over this man. Just accept it, Sirius Black; troublemaker, prankster, ladies' man, is also a poof.'_  
  
You know that little voice in your head that always tried to get you to face reality? That was it, and it was mocking Sirius in the likeness of Cayden, and he shifted uncomfortably in his step, not noticing as Cayden opened one of the massive doors at the entrance to the school and stood beside, gesturing him through.  
  
As soon as he stepped out into the frigid night air, his boots crunching on snow, Sirius shuddered. Now why hadn't he brought his jacket? But suddenly he was warm again, and for some reason he didn't mind as much that Cayden had looped an arm around his waist, a leather-gloved hand resting on the younger man's hip, enveloping him in heat and that delicious smell…  
  
_'Sirius, you're a…'  
  
'Shove it, inner self.'_  
  
"Are you alright?" Cayden's words startled him out of his inward battle, his voice so close to his ear that heated breath lapped at his neck.  
  
Sirius stammered and met his gaze with a feeble grin. "Of course. Why?" He asked, swallowing the feeling of the Sahara existing in his mouth.  
  
"Well, you haven't said anything, and you've got this _adorable _deer-caught-in-the-headlights look on your face," he replied with a wolfish grin, and as startled Sirius was at the word 'adorable,' well, maybe not so startled, considering this was Cayden, he still couldn't help but think how much he wanted to lift a hand and brush away the wayward curl hanging in the man's face. His fingers twitched at the thought, and he quickly shoved his hands in his jean pockets, just in case.  
  
"You didn't come here because of Quidditch," Sirius said flatly, stating the obvious. "So why are you following me?" He asked, not quite sure that he wanted to know the answer.  
  
"Haven't you been wanting to see me again all week?" He challenged with a knowing grin, and Sirius felt a hot blush blossom up his neck, spreading into his cheeks. He let out a grumbled, incoherent response, and Cayden laughed, the sound ringing clearly through the still, crisp air. "You see? I have fulfilled your hopes, and I have decided to sponsor a team for you so that I may continue to have excuses to return to Hogwarts. I have a certain interest in visiting you regularly, you see," he said, looking quite pleased with himself as he took a cigarette out of his pack and lit it, holding it delicately with gloved fingers.  
  
"And what would that be?" Sirius asked, accepting the offered cigarette and, thankfully, lighter, taking a deep drag of his own. Once again, he wasn't so sure that he wanted to know the answer to his own question.  
  
"You haven't figured it out yet?" Cayden asked, cocking an eyebrow at him and replacing his arm around Sirius's waist. "I'm disappointed in you," he said, sighing. "My intentions are to get you to sleep with me."  
  
Sirius stopped walking, and Cayden did along with him, a bright-eyed smirk playing at the corners of his lips as Sirius gaped at him, eyebrows furrowed in disbelief and one cocked in question.  
  
"What?" He asked in a low hiss, gray eyes shimmering beneath his drawn brows. Another smirk.  
  
"I intend to seduce you, Mr. Black," he repeated, though Sirius was certain his voice dropped, perhaps took on the same spicy tone as his scent… Shaking his head to clear it, Sirius squirmed away from his touch, finding himself freezing. They were at the Quidditch pitch now, and Sirius hardly noticed, he was too busy staring at Cayden incredulously for his revelation.  
  
"To what me?" He asked, and Cayden smirked.  
  
"To lure you into bed with me, and then proceed to fuck you senseless," he whispered, making Sirius shudder, and it was not from the cold. His voice was icy and cruel, and yet Sirius could not help but feel his stomach flutter at the thought of it… Cayden, and only Cayden, filled his mind, and his eyes flickered shut, jaw trembling from the cold. He inhaled sharply when a familiar arm slid around his waist, and the heat of Cayden's firm body was pressed against him.  
  
"Cayden…" He whimpered, snapping his jaw shut firmly, shivering in his arms.  
  
Cayden, who rather liked the sound of his name uttered from those perfect, blanched lips, grinned and pressed into Sirius's back with his hand, grinding their hips together, and hearing the young man gasp at the contact.  
  
"Do you like it, boy?" He asked, his voice a harsh growl.  
  
Sirius merely swallowed and nodded, chest heaving and eyelids clamping together more tightly. He was terrified of what this man was, whatever that turned out to be, but more so of Cayden himself. Sirius's throat was constricted with nerves, and he was dismayed that his groin stirred at the tingling heat spreading out from the older man's body. Cayden shifted purposefully against him, and Sirius let out a low groan, his lips parting slightly…  
  
…And then, Cayden kissed him.

* * *

Ack, short chapter. R and R PLEASE!  
  
-Sable 


	4. Chapter Three: Desire

A/N: This chapter begins to press on this story's 'R' rating, and I have a feeling that I'll end up having to post a few NC-17 chapters on another site… Don't worry, I'll be sure to give you the links! Oh, but yeah, it gets a little detailed here, folks. Remember that this is SLASH, as in Male on Male, as in… yeah. 'Nuff said.

Chapter Three: Desire

_"The ruling passion, be what it will, the ruling passion conquers reason still." -Alexander Pope  
_  
Sirius shifted uncomfortably at the memory, drawing in a hissing breath as the stone beneath him ground into his back. Spine stinging, he pushed himself into a sitting position, cupping his lower back.  
  
Outside his ring of light provided by a flickering street lamp, the world was cloaked in darkness. Sirius stared out into the blackness of the night, the pain in his back ebbing slightly. His fingers were numb, his face was pricked with cold, and his breath wafted through the frozen air in tendrils of heat, but Sirius took no notice of that, or that his entire body was stiff with cold. His mind was on Cayden, on that night all those years ago…  
  
Guilt and shame washed over him; guilt for the wicked pleasures he was dealt and shame for the blind longing still in him.  
  
He hated Cayden passionately for everything he had done to him, for everything he had made him do. He hated Cayden for the man he had made him into and for the web of lies and deceit he wove around him. He hated Cayden for his damnable looks and his charming façade, and for the sinister, malevolent side of him he masked with seduction. He hated Cayden for taking his virginity and he hated him for all the countless times thereafter that he continued to claim him. He hated Cayden for captivating him, and he hated Cayden for remaining foremost in his thoughts to that day.  
  
But he also loved him, just a little, for it all.  
  
Sirius let out a shaky breath, cursing himself in every vile fashion he knew because, even more than he despised and cursed and loathed Cayden Hillander, he despised and cursed and loathed himself.  
  
When he was at the height of his repulsive existence as Cayden's creature, Sirius had shuddered to be in his own skin. He would return from an evening of carnal desires and horrific deeds that still made him wince and find himself a different man. Slowly, Cayden had morphed him into an indistinguishable puppet, a slave of his mastery, until even Sirius himself could barely recognize the smug, cold-eyed man returning his glare from the bathroom mirror.  
  
Then, he had been disgusted with himself. He still was.  
  
It was hard for him to remember, to look back at the person he had been with Cayden, and know that all that he had been was still a part of him. True, he hadn't had sex since Cayden, nor had he hurt anyone since Cayden, nor killed anyone since Cayden, but he could never be washed of those sins. All those countless, terrible sins.  
  
Especially the killings.

* * *

Out of all the things Cayden could have said or done, those words and that action were among the last on his list.  
  
He had _kissed_ him, for God's sake! A _man_ was kissing him, lips pressed firmly against his, hands cupping their bodies together, and the worst thing was, Sirius liked it. Cayden's body, broader and taller than his own, was cloaked in dense sinew, his hard angles and muscles so different than the soft curves Sirius was used to. His hands, long-fingered and elegant, were gripping his hips gently, forcing their groins together, and Sirius felt lurching despair as his stomach dropped to his loins and a sensation of heat and nerves kindled there. His lips, oh those lips, were full and soft, pressed against his own, and he wanted more.  
  
Cayden's lips parted against his slightly, and Sirius responded hungrily, eager as a child. His arms, which hung useless at his sides, came up, blue-white hands cradling Cayden's smooth-shaven jaw, which was warm and heavy in his grasp. The older man grinned into the kiss, lifting Sirius's hips to his suddenly and making the boy shudder, hips bucking against his.  
  
Smirking even more, Cayden opened his mouth further, delighted when Sirius did the same, granting him entry into his own mouth. Cayden's tongue grazed Sirius's, and they met in a swaying rhythm, entangling and sliding across each other to the pace of their lips.  
  
Sirius had forgotten who he was kissing, who he was so lost in, the moment Cayden had pulled their hips together, sending a wave of nerves through his loins, stirring his phallus to life. The touch of flesh, lips, and tongue was enough to drown Sirius in Cayden without question, without hesitation. It was so strange, from a few years later looking back, how easily Cayden coerced him to drop all his barriers and misgivings. He always had held that power over him, and for the first time, Sirius got a taste of Cayden's method of persuasion, loving it.  
  
At first, when Cayden's teeth caught Sirius's lower lip in a gentle nibble, the young man had enjoyed the soft sensation. It was when he ground the sensitive flesh between his teeth, making Sirius groan in pain, that the boy remembered his doubt. Blood flowed from the deep cut, and Cayden ran his tongue over the inside of Sirius's lip, soothing the wound, his hand's moving in synch with his lips, subtly pressing the younger man's groin to his, then rolling Sirius's hips away, before bringing them together again, teasing him with a tide of sensation.  
  
Cayden did this once more and felt a stiff presence against the inside of his thigh, grinning into the kiss and sucking on Sirius's cut lip once before breaking their kiss.  
  
Sirius let out a soft whimper, and then his eyes went wide. Just as his mouth opened in protest, Cayden's ever skillful lips found the corner of his, silencing him with a soft kiss. Then, he trailed his lips downward, tracing his jaw line before plunging down the slope of the underside of his chin. Sirius immediately tensed in his arms, and Cayden half-shoved him into the wall of the Quidditch pitch, mouth latching onto a spot just below Sirius's earlobe. Cayden used his positioning to press the boy into the planks, who winced at the sharp contact, and held his hips to his for a few moments, grinning as Sirius let out a low noise, a pleading moan. As soon as Cayden ground their groins together once more, slightly erect member meeting Sirius's engorged one, trapped painfully within the confines of his jeans, Sirius gasped. He threw his head back into the wall, ignoring the blunt pain that resulted from his action, and Cayden took advantage of his new angle, running his lip along the rim of Sirius's ear, followed by his tongue and a shiver from the squirming boy between him and that wall.  
  
Sirius was being driven half-mad with not-so-subtle pleasures, and he pressed the back of his head into the wood harder, letting out a trembling sigh. The kisses themselves were breathtaking and arousing enough, and as Cayden's lips and tongue played along his ear, soft breaths lapping at his skin, shivers raced across his skin, directly to his erection.  
  
Every time Cayden brought their groins together now, setting a rocking pace, Sirius gasped and moaned, his restrained member aching. It was torture; cruel, heartless torture, and Sirius wanted it to end. Not because he was arguing with this ecstasy, he didn't care about the fact that this was a MAN anymore, but because he longed for the nerve-shattering release he was on the verge of. He could feel it echoing through him with every one of Cayden's rolling thrusts, with every touch of his lips to his skin, and he _wanted_ it.  
  
Cayden's mouth had found it's way down to the collar of Sirius's cloak, leaving a trail of red welts in its wake, and the muscles in Sirius's chest spasmed at the nearby sensations.  
  
"Cayden…" Sirius groaned, eyes shut and throat exposed as his head was pressed against the wall.  
  
The older man shivered, his arousal stirring with the words moaned from those pale lips; one of his very first fantasies about this boy, real now. He grinned and brought his lips to Sirius's ear again, breath spilling across his lobe.  
  
"What?" He whispered, and Sirius jerked beneath him as he slammed his hips into his, pinning him against the wall of the pitch and feeling the warmth from his loins spreading through his own trousers.  
  
"Please," he moaned, voice husky and cracking. Cayden watched as he swallowed, Adam's apple sliding down the column of his through. Sirius's lips remained parted, brows drawn together above his closed eyes.  
  
"Beg me, Sirius," Cayden ordered, sending a thrill racing up Sirius's spine as he pressed a kiss to his jaw, waiting.  
  
Sirius Black was not one to beg. But under the circumstances, he was more than willing.  
  
"Please, I beg you, let me come!" He gasped, Cayden's grip on his hips tightening.  
  
"Is that the best you can do?" The man asked, and moved to pull away, but Sirius pulled him back wantonly.  
  
"What do you _want_ from me?" Sirius asked incredulously, lines of frustration creasing his forehead.  
  
Cayden had a thousand scandalous answers to that question, and grinned wolfishly at some of them, his lips brushing Sirius's earlobe.  
  
"Oh, you'll see in time," he assured him, his voice a low, seductive murmur, "but for now… moan my name," he demanded huskily.  
  
He brought his pelvis upwards, rubbing their erections together, and Sirius replied with a trembling shudder, and exactly what Cayden had wanted from him.  
  
"Cayden!" He moaned, head slamming into the boards. "Cayden, _please_!"  
  
Cayden grinned and released his hold on Sirius's hips, maneuvering out of the young man's grasp and taking a step away. Sirius opened his eyes, pupils diluted, tousled hair hanging in his ashen gaze with a haphazard grace. His lips were still parted, emitting gasping breaths, and he was staring at Cayden with a shocked expression, his arousal pulsing through him. Why had he stepped away? He had done as he asked and begged, moaned his name. Why did he still not get what he longed for? Torture! It was more unbearable torture.  
  
"I thought you said you weren't gay," Cayden said, his grin flickering in his gossamer, dark gaze before, without so much as a muttered incantation, his form swirled into a spiral of mist, and he was gone.  
  
Leaving a very cold, very alone, very _hard_ Sirius, panting and stunned, in the Quidditch pitch.  
  
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Needless to say, it was quite difficult to face James, Remus, and Peter after that incident.  
  
When Sirius came through the door, all three looked up, questions ready at the tips of their tongues. Their friend silenced them with one glare, though, and three jaws snapped shut, leaving six inquiring eyes following him as he trudged into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.  
  
In the bathroom, Sirius drew himself a cold shower and stripped down, looking at his reflection in the mirror.  
  
Cayden had left numerous bite marks blooming across his neck and collar, and Sirius touched them absently with his fingertips, transfixed.  
  
Sirius blinked, breaking the hypnosis the thought of Cayden's lips forming those welts had created. He glanced down at his chest, pale and rippled with muscles, the bones of his hips slanting away towards his groin, making little crevices above his hips. His member hung limp between his thighs, protruding from a patch of dark curls, innocent in its normality, as if it hadn't been rigid with arousal a few minutes earlier.  
  
An arousal that Cayden had kindled.  
  
He groaned and leaned up against the wall, tiles cool on his shoulder and back. Sirius let his eyes flicker closed, reliving the night.  
  
Cayden had set him up, he knew, and pushed him to the verge of ecstasy, he knew that too. Why he did it, Sirius knew as well, now.  
  
_"I intend to seduce you, Mr. Black."_  
  
The words were Cayden's, and they sent a shiver rippling down Sirius's bare spine. The memory reverberated in his phallus, and Sirius started at the feeling, stammering towards the shower and jerking at the knob, turning on a stream of freezing water. He ducked into the stall, letting out a shaky sigh at the cold pelting his back. He braced himself against the wall, head hanging and eyes closed.  
  
He was ashamed to be so vulnerable to this man, even in his thoughts, and he remembered, with a guilty shudder, how he had stroked himself to climax in the middle of the Quidditch pitch after Cayden had gone.  
  
He also remembered, opening his pale eyes and staring at the wall through damp strands of ebony hair, whose name he'd called out when he did.

* * *

Ok, that chapter was VERY difficult for me to write. Give me a break, alright?  
  
-Sable 


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